Tuesday, February 21, 2017

The campaign is deep in the "North" of the Forgotten Realms. They have the map. They roam where they will. I was out to lunch this session, making encounter rolls and trying to keep up with the game. The group was excited to join the Harpers and discover a way to jump around the map. Not so excited that they couldn't bring their horses with them.
The Company of the Raven made their way to Everlund, then the lovely city of Silverymoon. They made friends with an organization called the Harpers, a secret network (everywhere but the Silver Marches, a haven for just minded folk) that sought to share information and promote the ideal of the yeoman farmer throughout the Realms. Occasionally the Harpers even play music.

The Company was introduced to Krow Valharrow, an old wizard who shared the secret of the Circles of Instantaneous Transubstantiation, and the man thereof. He also shared his theory that rather than possible allies, he suspected a dragon, or dragons was actually behind the Breaking of the Ordering of Giants.Finally, the warrior Apollo acquired the Iron Blade of GiantSlaying.

A minor expedition. Little of note. Some treasure. An elven blade. No death. New life.

The wizard Mazzarian the Magnificant approached the Company of the Black Dragon as they lingered in their cups: “I have scried upon my damn drune rival Necron, he who owes me his life in forfeit for the picture he stole. I saw him crawling through cramped tunnels beneath the southern Barrow Moor. Go forth with this elf, Resper, and find him! I will reward you handsomely.” The Moor did not molest the venturers as they walked through cold spitting rain to the bog that held their dire misfortune. They decided to enter through the “Well”, the western-most entrance. Creeping through looted passageways with their yellow-eyed wardog, they discovered a fallen cleric of the dwarven All-Father. Hungry rats were feasting on his face, but once beaten back he was found to be carrying treasures. An elven sword “Goblin-Biter”, and a map of “Skull Mountain”. After some more tepid exploration the fighter who had bitten bitten savagely by rats began vomiting violently. Swiftly, the group returned to Helix to supplicate Brother Othar for healing once again.

In the days that followed Aliontus the Cleric became betrothed to Sister Cella, Cleric of St. Ygg, who is pregnant. Stirr and Dan spoke of a rich caravan headed to Helix. Clonin became closer still with Merda the Barmaid and Brother Gamdar, the Orcish Friar of of the One True God. He spoke of incompetence of the Duke Ironwood and of the heathen perils of the Dolmenwood to the West.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

A fun session here with two friends, each playing a fighter and a cleric, using my Uncommon rules. As well, they brought two men-at-arms and a torchbearer. They have gone through so many hirelings at this point the Guild of Ordinary Gentlemen is charging ten gold a day. We had paused at the end of last session, so they were low on torches, food, spells, and hit points. This style of game is a refreshing contrast to my D&DV campaign, which has reached giant slaying 9th level.Of interest is that the first loop has been created in the dungeon map. All previous sessions have extended out from one of three discovered entries. In this session they were able to find an alternate route back to the stairs. We use Roll20 to play online and I reveal the map as they explore it. It made for a nice moment, and they were thankful for the map-gnome with perfect spatial sense. With retreat cut off by a lurking golem of flagstone, with the wizard dead, and a torchbearer lost to spider poison, the explorers stumbled through darkness, falling into pits, desperate for an exit. They crept upon a nefarious battle. Acolytes of two dark gods, pentagrammatical Orcus and bone masked Set clashed in an echoing hall. Hiding from the victors, the chastened would-be heroes slunk southward, happening upon a familiar band of ne'er do wells who accepted a hefty bribe of nine golden scarabs to show the way to the fresh air above ground. "Vargas thanks ye for the gold!" they jeered as the survivors ascended.

The sun was setting then, and the bog itself came alive, grasping, a shambling mound of earth and moss possessed by evil intent nearly caught one bravely fleeing warrior, but he lived to tell the tail over flagons at the tavern, lusty lays of relief and life. Merda the Barmaid listened intently, as did Brother Othar and Brother Gamdar, keenly interested in the stories of fallen knights, fonts of law and pits of chaos hinted at below the barrow moor. The horse emblazoned shield and shining winged helm of Sir Guy du Veargne proved all.

The Castle of Dreams

This castle whereonto I fleeWhen life and time hang wearily.Yet though so far, 'tis strangely nigh:Within the breathing of a sighOne gains the walls secure and highOf the castle of dreams.

Divinely beautiful and great,Of pearl each dome and tower, and gate,It stands, a hold of kingly state.There gyving Time and Space are not,And cares of Life are all forgot.No breath of restless change is broughtTo the Castle of Dreams.

I walk each wondrous court and hall,Their varied treasures mine at call,For there I am the lord af all.If gold and gems of land and sea,And broad estates were offered me,I would not take them for the keyOf the Castle of Dreams.